The Voice

Part III

MUDJO IS ACTING VERY STRANGE TODAY, said The Voice.

“Yes,” Katya agreed, “Mudjo is acting a little strange.”

MAYBE HE HAS RABIES.

“That’s crazy!” said Katya, ever-so-slowly backing away from Mudjo. “How could he have rabies?” she said, tiptoeing down the hall to her room.

MAYBE HE GOT BITTEN BY A RABID WOLF, LIKE THE DOG IN THAT BOOK YOU’RE READING.

“That’s impossible,” Katya said, slamming her bedroom door. “There aren’t even any wolves around here.

“At least I don’t think there are wolves around here,” she said. “Are there wolves around here?”

The Voice thought on this, then said: NO.

This calmed Katya, and feeling a sudden desire to kiss Mudjo’s crazy old head—that’s all he was, crazy, he had always been a little crazy, ever since he was a puppy—she flung open her door and called down the hall, “Mudjo! Here, Mudjo!”

The Saint Bernard came barreling toward Katya, once or twice banging his heavy body into the wall, drool swinging to and fro—because of his excitement? Because of his rabies? But no, not rabies, there were no wolves around here, remember?—and just as he was about to charge into Katya, The Voice said: RACCOONS.

RACCOONS, said The Voice, ALSO HAVE RABIES. REMEMBER THAT STORY YOUR AUNT TOLD YOU? ABOUT THE RACCOON THAT ATTACKED THAT KID? I’M PRETTY SURE HE HAD TO HAVE HIS NOSE SEWN BACK ON.

Katya screamed and jumped onto her bed, grabbing her pillow to use as a shield against Mudjo and his rabies. As the dog grew more and more desperate to get at her, she grew more and more convinced that he had rabies—he definitely without a doubt had rabies. Aaaaaaaah! she screamed. Aaaaaaah! She could not stop screaming Aaaaaah!

AND, said The Voice, YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS TO THE DOG IN YOUR BOOK. YOU’LL HAVE TO—

Katya screamed again, this time so she wouldn’t have to hear The Voice say it. “No!” she screamed. “I won’t! I won’t!”

SUIT YOURSELF, said The Voice, BUT YOU MIGHT WANT TO CARRY A HANKY IN CASE YOU START FOAMING AT THE MOUTH.

Katya became so distraught by this thought—what an awful thought—that she didn’t even notice when exactly Mudjo had been replaced by her mother, who eventually managed to pry the pillow from Katya’s hands. Prying thoughts from the mind, though—that is a much harder task. That would take several hours, as well as a handwritten note from the vet promising Katya that Mudjo did not (triple underline) have rabies. Signed, Dr. Caroline Montgomery.

(To be continued.)